The Proposal

        THE PROPOSAL

 

”Will you marry me?” he asked,

As he handed me a rose.

I was very touched by his request,

That it was me he chose.

 

He looks quite dashing in his jeans

And jaunty western vest.

The rakish angle of his hat,

Speaks, cowboy at his best

 

His hair is blond and blessed with curls.

His eyes are denim blue.

And when he turns his charm on me,

There’s nothing I can do.

 

I must admit I am impressed,

By his somewhat flirty smile.

And I love the twinkle in his eyes,

And, yes, his carefree style.

 

Yet, I told him that I could not wed

But I’d love him evermore,

For I am turning fifty-six,

And he is only four.

 

11/25/1997 –  Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

 

10’th … N F S P S  – 2002

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